Every morning my unborn mind awakens
TO smell change in air
TO expand breath
TO ride bronco of light.

It cries to be free from ego
It yearns to move in harmony.
My baby child calls
for source to fill her cup
WITH god’s energy
WITH dreams
WITH my own awakening of self.

I as evening moon began to rise
sat upon pillowed settee.
Face turned towards stream of words.
Eyes attuned to text lined with visions.

I as moment progressed journeyed into a poem  
where mind focused on pulsations of doggerel,
as ears attuned to my silent voice.

Visions surfaced each word carrying me further
into a menagerie of words.
Where trees spoke and candles became stars.

Each stanza giving chance
to travel in its terrain of metric splendor
where birds played harp and flowers swung from trees.

And when done, I drifted into a sea of stars
dreaming of the poets land.